


A Boy And His Dog

by Tommykaine



Series: Portrait of a Serial Killer [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Death, Blood and Violence, Childhood Friends, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommykaine/pseuds/Tommykaine
Summary: Part of the origin story of a serial killer---"Goddammit, Sam, you're so slow", he complained, smirking as he saw the other's blue eyes widen."Ernest, don't swear!", Sam told him, glancing around as if he feared his parents might be there to scold them." 'Ernest don't swear' ", he mocked him, chuckling as he saw him cringe. "I'll swear how much I damn want. No one's here to hear us anyway. You should try too".
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Portrait of a Serial Killer [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697614
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: COWT - Clash Of the Writing Titans/Chronicles Of Words and Trials





	A Boy And His Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another story involving my serial killer OC, who also appeared in the previous works in this series.
> 
> You can read each story as separate, but they are part of the same "universe".
> 
> If you've read the previous works you might be confused about the name, but "Gabriel" might not be this character's "real" name...

"Ernest, wait!"

Ernest turned around and huffed, stopping to wait for his friend. The short, chubby boy behind him was panting as he tried to catch up to him, his light brown hair drenched in sweat. It was dripping on his round face, reddened from the effort, and his grey shirt already had two large wet stains underneath his armpits.

"Goddammit, Sam, you're so slow", he complained, smirking as he saw the other's blue eyes widen.

"Ernest, don't swear!", Sam told him, glancing around as if he feared his parents might be there to scold them.

" 'Ernest don't swear' ", he mocked him, chuckling as he saw him cringe. "I'll swear how much I damn want. No one's here to hear us anyway. You should try too".

"I won't", Sam replied, looking away. He finally managed to reach him, so he stopped to catch his breath, placing his hands on his thighs and panting loudly. "How much... how much further is it?".

"We're almost there", Ernest assured him, turning around again and walking away. "We'd already be there if you hurried".

"Easy for you... to say", Sam complained in between pants, but Ernest could hear he had started walking again.

The taller boy slowed down his pace. His long legs and his slim build meant he could easily walk for long distances, but that wasn't true for Sam. It was kind of annoying, but oh well. It would be worth it just to see his reaction.

It wasn't much longer before they heard the barking.

"I can hear it! Where is it?!", Sam asked, the excitement clearly showing in his voice.

"Over there", Ernest replied, pointing towards the abandoned shed. It was half-covered by green vines and by the tall grass around it, merging with the rest of the forest. "I'm keeping it inside".

They both started running, and the barking grew louder.

"I think it can already smell the food", Ernest remarked once they reached the entrance. He pulled on the wooden door to open it, waiting for Sam to get inside before following him in.

The shorter boy grimaced. "Wow, it stinks".

As soon as they got in, they were invested with the pungent stench of excrement and piss. Still, once he saw the dog Sam's eyes lit up with excitement. "Wow... it's so skinny. Poor thing".

The brown mutt was so thin Ernest could count his ribs from above its skin. It was standing up and barking towards Sam, its tail wagging furiously. Ernest had tied it to one corner of the room with a rope, which it was pulling on to try and reach the boy.

"D-does it bite?", Sam asked, swallowing hard and taking a step back.

"Nah. It's a good boy". Ernest strode up to the dog and scratched its ears. It whined softly and stilled for a moment, then it sniffed his hand and licked it, barking again. "It's really hungry, though. You brought the food, right?".

"Yes!". Sam took off his backpack and placed it on the ground, rummaging through it and taking out a plastic bag. The dog immediately started barking and whining nonstop, drooling as it smelled the fresh meat. As Sam took out the sausages it got so excited that it started peeing, adding to the stench of the place.

Ernest scoffed and slapped it harshly, causing it to whimper and cower in fear. "Bad dog! Is this how you thank us?!".

"Don't hit it!", Sam cried out, his blue eyes growing wide in alarm. "Poor thing, it just wants food. Here you go, little friend".

He hesitated before offering the sausages to the dog, as if he was scared it would bite his hand. Ernest wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't, especially with the way it immediately pulled the food out of his hands and darted in the corner to devour it, tearing it in pieces with its sharp teeth.

"Look at how hungry it is", Sam said, sounding worried. "Where did you find it? How long have you kept it here?"

"A few days", Ernest lied. "I found it in the streets, it was alone and it just started following me. I think it's been abandoned. It's pretty friendly".

Sam looked around, frowning. "I don't know if we should keep it here. Can't you bring it home?".

"Nah, pops would kick us out. He hates dogs. Says that they're filthy". Ernest glanced back to the dog, who had gotten up again and was slowly approaching them again, as if hoping for more food. "Can't blame him though. Look at the mess it's made".

"That's just because it can't go outside", Sam reasoned. "Maybe you should let it free".

Ernest scoffed. "I found it. It's my dog now. I'm keeping it".

"But this isn't... it doesn't look like a good place".

Ernest didn't respond. Instead he walked up to the dog and stroked its back. As usual the animal eyed him warily, looking at him with fear. The boy smiled. He liked that look. He liked how it made him feel. Strong. Powerful. He could do anything to that stupid, helpless creature and all it could do was to whine and cower in front of him.

Sam sighed, but he also moved in closer, careful not to step on the shit that littered the ground as he approached the dog and stroked him together with him.

"I wish I could take him home, but-"

"Hey. I said it's _my_ dog". Ernest glared at him, his light green, almost yellow eyes narrowing dangerously. His hand moved to grasp one of the creature's ears, pulling until it started whining.

"Don't hurt it!". Sam tried to move his hands away, but Ernest pushed him off. He laughed as the shorter boy fell on his fat ass, landing on one of the dog's shits.

"If I see you around here without me, I'll kill it", he warned, finally letting go of its ear.

Sam looked at him in fear.

"You wouldn't...", he said, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.

Ernest crouched and offered his hand to Sam.

"Get up. Come on, I've got something for you".

Sam bit on his lip, but he took his hand and Ernest helped him get back on his feet.

"I got shit on my pants", the shorter boy whined, to which Ernest shrugged.

"Next time try not to be such a crybaby".

He led him outside the shed again, then he took a small box of chocolates from his pocket, throwing it at him.

"There. These are the ones you like, right?".

Sam caught them in mid air and his eyes went wide again, but this time he was smiling.

"Sweet! I love them! Thank you, Ernie". He immediately tore the package open and started shoving chocolates in his mouth. "Mom doesn't want me to eat them anymore."

"That's cause you're fat", Ernest noted, smirking when Sam glared at him, but just for a moment. He couldn't stay mad for long when he got him snacks. Honestly, he reminded him a bit of that mutt in the shed. Overly friendly, easily scared and easily pleased as long as you tossed food at him.

He knew his parents were trying to make him lose weight, but Ernest didn't want him to. That small, pudgy little boy had no other friends other than him. He was the only one to pay attention to him. He even beat up his bullies a couple times, so that he would feel indebted to him. So he could do pretty much whatever he wanted with him, and the stupid thing would not dare to go against him even when he did something that scared or worried him.

Speaking of which, he saw his expression change as soon as he took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He even stopped stuffing his face for a moment.

"W-what are you... are those cigarettes?", he asked, sounding shocked and concerned. "Where did you get those?!"

"Stole them". Ernest took one out and then he fished something from the pocket of his jeans, a big Zippo lighter he nicked from his step-dad. He lit it up and inhaled, taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke in Sam's face, chuckling as the other boy coughed.

"You can't- you shouldn't smoke!"

Ernest shrugged. "Says who?". He took another drag, walking in closer and puffing it straight into his face. " _You?_ "

Sam coughed again and tried to wave the smoke away from his face, grimacing and taking a step backwards.

"We're going to get in trouble", he whined. "If I smell of smoke-"

"Good thing your pants smell of shit, then. Your parents won't even notice over that stench". Ernest retorted, then he took out another cigarette and offered it to him. "Take one too".

"No".

Ernest scoffed.

"Pussy".

"I'm not a-"

"You big, fat, whiny pussy".

Ernest grinned as he saw his face turn red. He looked hurt and even sort of angry.

"Eff you", Sam grumbled, then scarfed down the rest of his chocolates.

They stayed in silence for a while. The dog barked again from inside the shed. It sure was noisy. Ernest wondered how high of a risk could there be of someone else finding it, but he doubted it would happen. That place looked like it had been abandoned for a long time. He doubted someone else would just stumble upon it like he had.

Once his cigarette was finished, he tossed it on the ground and stepped on it, grinding his shoe against it to extinguish it, then he looked at Sam.

"You sure you don't want one?".

"...what do they taste like?".

Ernest thought about it for a moment. He didn't care too much for the taste, it was the thrill of doing something he shouldn't be doing that attracted him. The fact that it was something that only adults could do. That his step-father would be mad if he knew, but he wasn't there to control him so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

"Try one and find out".

Sam eyed the cigarette, looking doubtful. But Ernest could see his resolve was wavering.

"My mom would get really, really mad...".

"Well, she'd get mad if she knew you ate the chocolates, but you still did it".

Sam frowned. He seemed to be internally debating what to do. Finally, he extended his hand and took it.

"How... how does it work?"

Ernest opened the Zippo again, handing it over to the other boy.

"You hold it in your mouth and inhale, kinda like you're sucking on it, then you burn the tip at the same time."

Sam tried to and of course he inhaled too much, coughing so hard that he dropped the cigarette.

"Ack! It burns! My throat burns!"

He kept coughing while Ernest laughed at him.

"You don't have to inhale _so much_ ", he told him, stepping on the cigarette that fell. "Try again"

"No..."

"Come on, do it".

He insisted until Sam took another one and started smoking it, coughing again but not so much as the first time.

"Ugh. It tastes awful".

Ernest shrugged, taking back the Zippo and lighting another one for himself.

"I don't mind it".

Sam made a face, but he kept smoking his. Probably he didn't want Ernest to think he was a loser. Of course Ernest already did. But that was why he made such a convenient friend. He could mistreat him all he wanted and Sam still would follow him around like a dog.

Once they were both done with their cigarettes, Ernest walked back inside the shed and petted the dog's head.

"Goodbye, you stinky mutt. We'll be back tomorrow".

  
  


After a few more days, Ernest was already starting to get bored of that pitiful, filthy thing. It was much more fun to see Sam's reaction whenever he kicked it or hit it.

Which gave him an idea...

He was whistling cheerfully as he led Sam through the forest, already anticipating the excitement. He had another box of chocolates with him in one of the pockets of his jacket.

In the other one, he had his dad's hunting knife. The one he stole from his things before his mom got rid of them. He could feel its weight like a silent promise, and from time to time he slid his hand inside his pocket to lovingly stroke its leather sheath.

Once they got to the shed, he let Sam feed the dog first. The boy was less scared of being bitten and even let the dog lick his hand afterwards. He seemed to be quite fond of the mutt, which was just perfect. It had been worth keeping it there even just for that.

"We- you should give it a name".

"Oh I already did. It's Sam".

Sam frowned at him.

"Come on!".

Ernest ignored him, approaching the dog and stroking its back. He saw Sam tense up and he grinned.

"Hey, Sam", he said, sliding his hand in his pocket and grasping on the handle of the knife. "Do you want to see something cool?".

"...what is it?", Sam asked, curious but hesitant. When Ernest took out the knife and pulled it out of its sheath, his blue eyes grew wide.

"What- where did you-?"

"It was my dad's. My real dad, I mean", Ernest replied, flipping the knife from one hand to the other a few times.

"Wow!". Sam looked in fascination as the knife twirled in mid air before Ernest grasped it again. "Can you teach me?".

"Nah. You'd get hurt".

Ernest suddenly grasped on one of the dog's ears.

"It's very sharp", he said. "See?", and he sliced off the floppy ear in one swift movement, tossing it on the ground.

The dog yelped in pain, while Sam gasped and jumped back, turning pale and staring at him in horror.

"W-w-what- what have you done?!".

Ernest grinned, doing another knife flip, then he grasped the dog's other ear.

"No no no wait _don't-_ "

He sliced it and tossed it on Sam's chest, chuckling as the other boy yelled and backtracked so quickly he almost slipped on one of the turds on the floor, ending up with his back against the wall.

The dog was whining loudly and trying to pull on the rope to get away, although it could not pull too hard as otherwise the rope around his neck would choke it.

"Wha-what have you done? A-ah w-what ha-have you-"

" _'Wha-wha-wha-wha-what have you done, what have you done, boo-hoo'_ ", Ernest mocked him. "They were full of mites anyway. It sure looks ugly without them, though".

He grasped on the dog's tail and pulled harshly, until it wailed in pain. It wailed even harder when he chopped it off, tossing it among the heap of shits on the ground.

"Ernie stop! Stop!", Sam cried out, his blue eyes filling with tears. He was shaking like a leaf, and soon enough he was sobbing so hard that he had snot leaking down from his nose, his face contorted in a horrified expression. He looked really ugly like that, but Ernest felt all the more excited by it. He was so fired up that his dick was growing stiff inside his pants. He kinda wanted to stroke it and make it go down again, even if Sam was there, but he was just getting started.

"You know, I don't want this filthy thing anymore. It really looks ugly. So you can have it", he told Sam, before sinking his knife in the creature's side, holding it tightly since it was squirming around and trying to escape. The sharp blade sunk in easily, all the way to the hilt.

"Please, stop", Sam kept sobbing, covering his face so that he would not have to look. Ernest did not like that. He wanted him to watch. He wanted him to look as the miserable thing suffered.

"Oh, so you also think it looks ugly? So ugly that you don't wanna look at it anymore?", he asked, stabbing the dog in between his poking ribs. He was getting blood all over his clothes, but it was okay. He had brought his backpack, and inside of it he had some stuff to change into. Though he really should have taken off his jacket. Oh well. Good thing it was black. "I guess I should get rid of it then... I'll just have to put it down".

"No!", Sam yelled in alarm, immediately putting down his hands. "Please, don't!".

"Aww, isn't that sweet? You still care for it, even like this?". Ernest smirked. "But it would be cruel after all... it probably will die from an infection anyway".

"Please don't kill it", Sam begged him, sobbing even louder. "Please, please, _please_...".

Ernest sighed.

"What are you planning to do, bring it to a vet?", he asked, raising one eyebrow. "They would ask you what happened to it, and then you would rat me out".

"I won't! Please!".

"You would, Sam. Your dad and your mom would ask you about it, and they would get you to confess. You would rat me out like the little coward you are", Ernest explained, while he grasped on the looped rope around the dog's neck and placed the blade underneath its throat. "It's better for everyone if I end its suffering".

"NOOOOO!".

Sam let out a bloodcurdling scream as Ernest cut its throat, the blood spilling copiously on the already soiled floor. Ernest noticed that, in its final moments, the smelly creature had pissed itself. _How disgusting_.

He let go of the rope and the lifeless body collapsed, twitching slightly for a few more moments.

Sam had stopped screaming, but now he was wailing as if he was being tortured. As Ernest strode towards him, he moved away from the wall to get away.

"D-don't come... don't come here", he whimpered, staring at the blood-stained blade with fear.

Oh, it was so good. Ernest could feel his dick ache from how painfully hard it was. Suddenly he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to sink the knife in Sam's soft flesh. To cut open that floppy belly and watch his guts spill out. Would anyone even find him in there? What if he just cut his throat and left him there with the dead mutt?

Maybe his expression had betrayed his intent, because Sam immediately darted out of the shed, running away as fast as he could.

"Hey!".

Ernest started chasing him, feeling his anger rise up as he ran after the pudgy boy. So he could be fast if he _really_ wanted to. But not fast enough. Ernest was already gaining on him.

"Sam, you better come back here!", he yelled, but the other boy didn't even turn to look at him. That little bastard... oh, he was going to make him pay!

The chase did not last long, because Sam tripped on a root that poked out from the ground and fell down with a harsh _thud!_

Ernest reached him before he could even try to get up, forcing him to turn around and then straddling him, easily overpowering the smaller boy. Soon enough, he had Sam's wrists pinned above his head and his knife against his throat. It already left a small cut just from the pressure, the sight of the thin red line against the pale wobbling skin exciting Ernest so much that he started rubbing himself against Sam's belly, humping him like the dog he just killed.

Sam was crying so hard he couldn't even speak at first, but when he did the only thing that came out from his mouth was an endless string of "please please please please...".

It would have been so easy to kill him then and there. So, so easy, and a part of him really wanted to.

Another part of him, however, thought of how much of a shame it would be to get rid of him so fast and never be able to play with him anymore. There were so, so many more ways he could make him cry. And he really liked to see him cry. He wanted to see it again. And he was sure he could convince him to stay friends, even if he was scared of him. _Especially_ if he was scared of him.

"Are you going to tell anyone about what we did today?", he asked him, and Sam immediately shook his head so violently that some of his tears and sweat hit Ernest's face. "You swear it? Swear it on your mother!".

"I-I swear, please, please...".

"Shut up", Ernest hissed at him, grinning as he saw him comply. Oh, he was so excited, but he couldn't touch himself and just rubbing himself against Sam wasn't enough. So he got an idea.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I'll let you go, and we can even still be friends. But...". His smirk grew wider. "You have to do something for me".

Sam sniffled, looking at him in fear.

"W-what is it?".

Ernest let go of his wrists, still keeping the blade against his neck. He unzipped his own pants and struggled to free his cock from them and from his underwear. It was so hard that the tip was already wet with precum. Sam looked at it with surprise and horror, as if it was some sort of horrid bug.

"Do you know what a 'handjob' is?", he asked him. The other boy shook his head. "I saw it in one of pop's magazines. The ones with the naked chicks on them. It's when you use your hand to stroke someone else's dick until the white stuff comes out. You've done it before, right? Touching yourself?".

Sam turned red but he nodded.

"Good. So, I want you to do it for me. Touch my dick".

Sam hesitated, but when Ernest lightly increased the pressure of the knife he whimpered and brought his hand on his cock, closing his fingers around it and moving his hand up and down.

Ernest moaned in pleasure, his breath growing heavier. He loosened the pressure against Sam's throat, not wanting to cut it by accident. The whole situation was getting him off more than Sam's clumsy handjob, especially the tears that were still falling from the other's eyes. Ernest never thought that the other boy looked attractive before then, but terror clearly suited him well. And he was doing whatever he wanted him to do, it was giving him such a power rush, he almost came from that alone.

It only took him a few more strokes to cum with a strangled groan, spurting his semen all over Sam's shirt. Then, after putting his cock back in his pants, he finally got up and offered his hand to Sam, who was still looking at him in fear but had stopped sobbing.

"Come on you idiot, get up. Or you're planning to lie there all day like a sad sack of potatoes?".

The smaller boy looked at his hand, then back at his knife. He slowly reached out with a trembling hand, allowing Ernest to pull him up.

"There, there. Why are you so scared?". Ernest chuckled. "Did you really think I would... it was only a joke!".

"A...a joke?", Sam croaked out, sniffling. He didn't seem too convinced.

"Of course! You're my friend. I would not hurt a friend", Ernest lied with ease, his voice sounding soft and reassuring. "You looked so scared back then, I thought I'd pull a prank on you, that's all. Come on. I even got you chocolates. The ones with cream inside".

He took them out of his pocket and handed them to Sam, who accepted them and sniffled again.

"You... you really didn't mean to..."

"Of course not! You idiot. You're really too gullible".

Sam seemed confused, but Ernest could tell his tone and his words were working.

"B-but... the dog... why did you kill it?"

Ernest sighed.

"We can get another one if you want".

"No! N-no I don't... I don't think we should...". Sam let out a small, trembling sigh. He looked down at himself. "I'm all dirty...".

Some of the blood had gotten on him when Ernest had pushed him down and held him there, plus there was that sticky white stain on his shirt. Ernest quite liked the sight, but he knew it would be a problem if he went home looking like that.

"I'll sneak you at my place, pops won't notice a thing. And I'll help you clean up. Lend you some clothes", he told him. "So no one's gonna know. Right? But you don't have to tell anyone. It would be a big problem... for you too. You understand, right?".

He really hoped he would, because if not... well he might just have to use his knife after all.

But Sam slowly nodded, then he started to unwrap the chocolates.

Ernest smiled at him, while he cleaned his knife on his own shirt before putting it back into its sheath, and then in his pocket.

He was glad that he was still his friend.

He could already think of many games he wanted to play with him.

And once he got bored... well. He might just have to put down this little dog too.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> I normally reply to all comments so if you do not wish for your comment to be replied to for any reason, please add "hush" somewhere in it and I will quietly appreciate it instead.


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